


think i'd like your hands in mine

by swansaloft



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Bartender AU, F/F, Humor, Romance, Season 7 AU, because what season of ouat would be complete without an amnesia curse, but almost entirely speculative, post-season 6, very mild season 7 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 05:49:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11983467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swansaloft/pseuds/swansaloft
Summary: In which Regina owns a bar, Emma is a musician who likes to borrow her clothes, and everything is a little like Cheers, except no one even knows their own name.





	think i'd like your hands in mine

**Author's Note:**

> SO let's get down to business: There are *very few* spoilers in this fic: Regina's curse name, the fact that she owns a ***, and Henry's love interest (which might not actually be a spoiler? I haven't looked too far into it, tbh). Everything else is purely speculative, and I actually ignore at least one thing I've seen/heard, because I can.
> 
> While the curse is in effect, Regina's POV will be written as Roni, because as far as she knows, that's her name.
> 
> As to whether or not said curse will be broken, well... #nospoilers #keepreading #diafa&e

The first time the blonde walks into her bar, Roni doesn’t recognize her at all. She doesn’t feel a flash of familiarity, not a jolt or even a small glimmer.

 

She looks at this person who was once the most important woman in her life, and her only thought is one of absentminded attraction. She tosses out a standard greeting and goes about her business filling an IPA for a regular at the other end of the bar.

 

The blonde takes a seat and orders a Jack and Coke on the rocks, and Roni complies with ease. The woman’s forearms are lithe and dusted with fine blonde hairs, pale against the dark blue flannel rolled up to her elbows. Roni admires the sight as she pours the whiskey, and for a brief moment, she toys with the idea of letting their fingers brush as she passes the glass over.

 

But she doesn’t.

 

Instead, she accepts the payment, thanks the woman for the generous tip, and turns to her next customer. She puts a little extra swing in her step just in case the blonde might be watching, but the next time she turns in the woman’s direction, she’s gone.

 

##

 

The second time the woman comes in, Roni recognizes her immediately. She’s dressed differently than last time - today, she’s in business casual, a white button up with black slacks, and Roni feels her mouth go dry at the sight.

 

It’s a Tuesday evening, still early, and the band is just now warming up onstage. There’s no distractions this time, only two other customers in the whole place, ensconced in their phones in a far booth.

 

The blonde walks right up to the bar, and Roni meets her there.

 

“Jack and Coke?” she asks, and the other woman raises both eyebrows, smiling faintly.

 

“Wow. I’m impressed.”

 

“I try to remember my customers.”

 

“You remember the drink of every single person who walks through these doors?” the woman asks doubtfully.

 

“Well, the important ones,” Roni replies, a flirtatious smirk stretching across her face, and she’s pleased when the woman returns it, even as she shakes her head.

 

“Afraid you’ve got the wrong girl. I’m just an accountant from Boston.”

 

“Trust me, I’ve got an instinct for these things,” Roni says, tapping the side of her head, finishing up the drink and handing it over.

 

“I’ll take your word for it.” The blonde holds her gaze for a moment, then takes a sip of her drink. She has grey eyes Roni could get lost in, surrounded by fine crow’s feet that only emphasize her beauty. Her hair is long and golden and lustrous, like something straight out of a fairytale, faint streaks of grey beginning at her temples. It isn’t tied back, instead tumbling long and loose around her shoulders, creating a juxtaposition against her buttoned up outfit. Roni can’t tear her eyes away.

 

“So, Boston, hmm? Did you move here, or are you just visiting?” Roni queries, after a quick scan of her surroundings to make sure she isn’t being beckoned.

 

“Moved here about nine months back. I like the atmosphere, but don’t think I’ll ever get used to all the rain.”

 

Roni chuckles. “I feel the exact same way, and I’ve been here almost five years now.”

 

“Where’d you live before that?”

 

Roni keeps her expression even. Internally, she’s kicking herself for bringing up an avenue of conversation that would inevitably lead to this. “That’s...well, it’s a long story,” she shrugs, clearly hedging.

 

The other woman senses this and doesn’t pry. Instead, she takes another drink and simply says, “I’d love to maybe hear it sometime.”

 

“Hmm,” Roni pretends to contemplate it. “Maybe someday. I’d have to trust you first.”

 

“I’ll get working on that,” the woman says, taking the last gulp of her drink and setting the Collins back down on the bar.

 

It occurs to Roni as she watches that other woman disappear out the door, that she still doesn’t even know her name.

 

##

 

Another week passes, and another Tuesday evening arrives. This one is slightly more eventful, as apparently the keyboardist in one of her regular bands is moving to Arizona next week and hadn’t thought to tell any of his bandmates.

 

Usually around this time, her bar is filled with the sounds of instruments warming up and voices calling to each other good-naturedly. Instead, there’s panic and hissed whispers among all the members of The Storytellers, and Roni grimaces because she already knows what’s coming next.

 

Sure enough, the frantic hubbub dies down, and music finally begins to reach the empty spaces of the room that will soon be filled with people. Roni is stacking glasses under the bar, and when she pops back up, Harmony, the Storytellers’ main singer, is standing on the other side.

 

“Hey, Roni. My favorite lady. The best bartender in all of Seattle,” she says with a giant suck-up smile, her bright white teeth gleaming against ebony skin, and Roni laughs, then sighs.

 

“He wants me to filter out the candidates for him again, doesn’t he?” she asks, referring to Simon, the band’s drummer and leader. He’s famously antisocial, but he’s amazingly talented and had helped Roni get her hands on this place when she was just getting started. She’ll owe him for life, which is why she’s gotten stuck with the job of weeding out the applicants for him, sending only the people who are talented and seem reliable.

 

She’s only had to do it a handful of times, but musicians as a whole are really not her favorite group. And there are some _really_ atrocious ones out there. She swears her ears are still ringing from when they had a guitarist opening two years before.

 

“You’re much better with people than he is!” Harmony defends, and she’s right.

 

Plus, Roni doesn’t really mind. Her afternoons get pretty monotonous. Business is so slow that she can’t justify paying anyone to just stand around with her, so she mans it alone until 4 when Isabella arrives every day. But those first two hours are boring as hell.

 

At least this will be something to liven it up, even if the cost is her eardrums. And possibly, temporarily, her sanity.

 

“Tell him I’ll do it.”

 

“You’re the best,” Harmony says, tapping a hand on the bar twice before she hurries back to the stage.

 

##

 

The dinner rush begins soon after, and she gets busy, so she doesn’t have a chance to put up the flier until Wednesday.

 

She’s taping it up on her window, bright orange and sure to attract attention, when a blonde head passes on the other side of the window, then backs up to look at the flier. The grey eyes move from the paper to her face, because Roni hasn’t moved since the woman appeared and caused her stomach to jump up into her throat.

 

She wills herself to calm the hell down. She’s a forty-two year old year old woman, not a teenager, but it’s hard to remember that when the blonde steps into the bar, slightly damp from the steady drizzle outside, but looking as beautiful as Roni had remembered.

 

“You need a keyboardist?” the woman asks.

 

“It’s not technically for me, but yes.”

 

“What would it entail?”

 

Roni quirks a brow, then walks around the bar to grab one of the sheets she’s made that have more information. She slides one over to the other woman. “A three hour shift every Tuesday, Saturday, and Sunday. Why? Don’t tell me you play.”

 

The woman inspects the paper for a few moments, then looks back up. “I do, actually.”

 

Roni peers at her. “Not sure I believe you.”

 

“Hey, don’t let the boring work clothes fool you.” She gestures to her navy button up and grey pinstripe pants. “I know how to groove.” She flashes a giant, cheesy grin, and _why_ does Roni find her so charming?

 

“I don’t have a problem with your clothes. It’s your motives I’m concerned about.”

 

“What, you think I might have some hidden reason for wanting to come here multiple times a week?” the woman asks, a glimmer in her eye.

 

“You tell me.”

 

“Well. I do hear the burgers are amazing.”

 

“Wanna find out?” Roni husks, letting her voice deepen just a bit.

 

“Hell yes,” the woman breathes, and they don’t break eye contact for a solid three seconds.

 

Then Roni ducks and grabs a menu, smacks it down on the varnished cherry wood bar.

 

“There are your options. I suggest the smoky barbecue.”

 

The blonde doesn’t even look at the menu. “I’ll take it.”

 

Roni nods and goes to pass her order to the kitchen staff.

 

When she returns, the woman says, “I’m Em, by the way.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Em.” Roni leans forward, shaking the other woman’s hand. She has smooth skin with just a hint of callouses, and a tingle of awareness shoots from Roni’s fingers all the way down her spine.

 

“Ronnie, I assume?” Em asks, making the mistake most people do.

 

“Roni, actually.”

 

“Like macaroni?” she jokes.

 

“Yes. It was my father’s favorite pasta,” Roni says with a straight face.

 

Em freezes for a split second before her face cracks open with a hesitant grin.

 

“You’re joking.”

 

Roni laughs loudly. “Yes. Short for Veronica. But that name’s a little fancy for this place, and I’ve always hated it anyway, so.” She shrugs, and Em nods.

 

“Trust me, I get that. My full name’s Clementine.” Her face gets comically serious, and she leans in closer to Roni, almost halfway across the bar. “But that’s a state secret, so tell anyone, and I’ll have to kill you.”

 

Roni leans forward until they’re only a few inches apart. “Ooh, threats from an accountant slash keyboardist. I’m shaking in my boots.”

 

“As well you should.” A smile curls Em’s lips, and Roni feels her gaze pulled there like a magnet.

 

But she’s at work, and she’s used to flirting with the clientele. It’s practically in the job description. But she’s just...not used to _wanting_. Not like this, not for a long time.

 

She backs away, putting a genial smile on her face. “I’ll tell Simon about you. If you’re serious about the position.”

 

Em leaves twenty minutes later, and Roni takes the flier down immediately. She has a good feeling about this one.

 

##

 

By the next week, Em has a trial gig with The Storytellers for the night. Roni doesn’t usually pay much attention to the music as long as nothing’s going wrong, but she finds herself watching the stage more than usual that night.

 

“See something you like?” Isabella appears at her side during a lull, her bronze skin shining with a light layer of sweat, and Roni snaps her head toward the other woman.

 

She might be more than a decade younger than Roni, but she’s also her only full-time employee, and they’ve grown close over the past three years since Isabella started working for her. She’s one of Roni’s only friends, and she knows her too well, apparently.

 

“What? No, just checking out the new keyboardist.”

 

“Oh, I could tell,” Isabella intones with a grin.

 

“Fuck off,” she says mildly, and Isabella chuckles before she heads toward the far booth where a customer is beckoning her.

 

Regina turns to head back to the bar.

 

But not before she takes one more glance.

 

##

 

Miracle of all miracles, Simon likes Em and agrees to let her in the band after only the one night.

 

She’s at the bar three nights a week after that, and the next month passes in a haze of good music and good-natured flirting that never really goes anywhere but consumes Roni’s thoughts regardless.

 

Isabella teases her about it occasionally, glad to finally have something to hold over the older woman, and Roni just glowers and threatens to fire her.

 

“Yeah, sure. This place would burn down in five minutes.”

 

“Is that a crack about my abilities?”

 

“Your ability to look away from Em for more than three seconds? Yeah, it is.”

 

Roni throws a blue sanitizer cloth at her, and Isabella ducks and laughs.

 

The next night, it’s ten minutes before the band is due onstage, and they’re probably all chowing down on the appetizers Roni had sent to them twenty minutes before.

 

She peeks her head in to check on them just in time to see Em take a big bite of her burger...only to have a giant glob of barbecue sauce land on her pale blue shirt.

 

“ _Shit_ ,” she mumbles through a mouthful of burger, and Roni and the others watch with amusement as she tries to wipe the stain away with a napkin. She succeeds in getting most of the sauce off, but in doing so, she also smears the stain to twice the size it was originally.  


“I really hope you brought a spare shirt,” Harmony says.

 

“Um, no?”

 

“I’ve probably got something you can borrow,” Roni pipes up.

 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-” Em starts, but Roni cuts her off.

 

“You can’t go onstage like that. Follow me.” Roni gestures, and Em follows her to the stairs, then pauses.

 

“Wait, are you inviting me up to your place?”

 

“Only temporarily. Don’t get your hopes up.” Roni smirks.

 

She reaches the top of the stairs then unlocks the door to the second floor apartment. She holds the door open for Em, who looks around her surroundings with curiosity.

 

Roni glances around, trying to imagine how her apartment would look to a stranger’s eyes. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. A couch, a television, a couple books stacked on the side table. A sweater draped over a chair in the kitchen and a single mug in the sink. It’s dark right now, no lights on, so Em wouldn’t notice the complete lack of anything you wouldn’t find in a catalog. No photos of childhood or weddings or family gatherings, no sentimental trinkets given to her by friends cluttering the mantle.

 

She wouldn’t notice that Roni has none of these things because she has no one to give them to her. Or if she does, she doesn’t remember them, because everything before she moved to Seattle is a white blur in her mind that no number of visits to her shrink can change.

 

Roni continues to her bedroom, and Em pauses in the doorway, lingering in the hall, watching her.

 

“You just want to get me out of my top. I see your game.”

 

“How’d you guess?” Roni returns lightly, rifling through her closet. She comes up with a simple black top Em should be able to wear and hands it over. “Here. Bathroom’s there,” she says, pointing across the hall.

 

She emerges a minute later, the blue shirt wadded beneath one arm. The shirt she’s wearing now is only a standard black affair, but it’s _hers_ , and there’s something strangely intimate about watching someone else wearing your clothing.

 

“You should probably get back down there,” is all she says, and Em nods. She clatters down the stairs, and Roni follows and locks the door behind her.

 

##

 

Closing time rolls around a few hours later, and Roni bids farewell to the last customer, breathing deeply. The band packs up while Isabella stocks the bar and the boys in the kitchen wash dishes. Energy at closing time ranges widely from dead tired to highkey excited, and tonight is one of the high energy nights. There’s loud salsa music emerging from the radio in the kitchen, and everyone shouts back and forth to be heard over it. Roni counts down the drawer in the back room and inputs the numbers into the computer. Gradually, the sound dies down, and by the time she emerges, only Isabella and Em are left.

 

“Hey, Roni, you have time for a quick chat?” Em asks.

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

“I’ll head out,” Isabella says, gesturing to the front door. “My daughter will be waiting for me.” It’s a ridiculous excuse, as Isabella’s daughter is only five years old and will have gone to sleep hours ago under the care of her grandmother.

 

But Isabella is clearly trying to leave them alone, which Roni definitely appreciates. She follows the other woman to the door and lets her out. Isabella takes a step and then turns around, backing away away from the door so she can get out a parting shot before she reaches her car.

 

“Have fun with your ‘chat,’” she teases lowly, making air quotes with her fingers.

 

“Hush, child. Go home. It’s past your bedtime.”

 

Isabella flips her off good-naturedly, turns, and bids her good night over her shoulder as she climbs into her car.

 

Roni closes the door and returns to Em.

 

“What did you need to chat about?”

 

“Nothing, really.”

 

“Something wrong? You need a ride?” Roni asks, concerned.

 

“Nope,” says Em. She stands and slowly shuffles just slightly inside Roni’s personal space, and despite the late hour and the fact that she should be tired, Roni’s heart rate immediately kicks up three notches.

 

“I thought I might return your shirt.”

 

“Hmm. Thoughtful of you.”

 

Roni steps closer, letting their fingers tangle loosely.

 

“I just really hate to let a favor go unpaid.”

 

“Lucky for you, I like to collect.”

 

She drops one of Em’s hands and moves it to the back of her neck instead, leaning forward. Em looks at her with a hunger that makes her lose her breath, and then she can’t see anything because they’re too close and not close enough, until finally, their lips meet.

 

At the contact, an uncontained supernova of sensation unfurls inside her.

 

Her heart expands until it’s too large for her chest, breaking her ribcage. She wants to sob. She’s sobbing. She’s shouting. She’s belting out a dramatic aria in a language she’s never learned, dancing in the rain during a thunderstorm.

 

Except that she isn’t doing any of these things, it’s just a feeling, an explosive, confusing feeling contained to a single instant, so startling that she jumps back immediately.

 

The sensation is gone as soon as it had appeared, but Em looks just as startled as she is.

 

“What the _fuck_ -” Em starts, and stares at her. “Did you feel-?”

 

Roni nods, speechless.

 

“What _was_ that?”

 

“I have no idea.”

 

Roni has been careful to think of this as a potential light fling, nothing more. She hasn’t had anything _more_ in her life since the accident that left her without memories. But something about this feels like more. Feels a like a lot more.

 

“You don’t...we haven’t met before, right?”

 

“What?” Em asks, frowning.

 

“Before last month, when you came into the bar. I know this is a weird question, but humor me.”

 

“No. Not that I know of. Why?”

 

Roni shakes her head. “I don’t know. Just a feeling.”

 

“Oh.”

 

They take a quiet moment to breathe, then Em leans forward again. “Try again?”

 

Instead of answering, Roni leans into her and presses their mouths together immediately.

 

No explosions this time, just a rush of hunger in her bloodstream, the normal reaction to a kiss from someone you’ve wanted desperately for what feels like half an eternity.

 

Roni isn’t sure if she’s disappointed or relieved.

 

She doesn’t have the brainpower to analyze, because Em’s hand slides up underneath the hem of her shirt and touches the skin of her back, and she loses her mind.

 

Em backs her up against the bar, and Roni hitches a leg around her waist. Em groans into her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip.

 

“Upstairs?” Roni asks, and Em nods.

 

They stumble up the stairs and this time Em follows her into her bedroom, lips never losing contact for more than five seconds at a time.

 

Roni’s boots come off, then her shirt. Em’s follow close behind, and when she flings her - Roni’s - shirt over her head, Roni admires the plain black silk underneath. She mouths a nipple through the cloth, and Em growls, yanking her closer with one hand while Roni reaches around her back and tries to unhook the garment without looking. It takes a few seconds, especially with her brain otherwise occupied, but eventually, she succeeds, and the visual is even better than Roni had imagined.

 

“ _God_ ,” she breathes. Em is unabashed by her nudity, pushing her jeans and panties down in one go. Roni follows suit because suddenly the fact that they’re not pressed together skin to skin from head to toe is the greatest tragedy she can think of.

 

Em stares at her when she finishes disrobing, stopping all movement for a long moment, just to take her in.

 

Then she slowly moves and kisses the scar on Roni’s upper arm she still doesn’t know how she got. She nips at her jaw, uses her fingers to tweak a nipple, and Roni tries to buck against her, but there’s nothing _there_ , Em still hovering a few inches above her.

 

Roni flips them and takes over, grinding down on the other woman’s thigh as she takes a nipple into her mouth again, this time sans any barrier.

 

It all turns to a blur after that, skin and sweat and sighs - and once, laughter, after an unfortunate incident involving Em’s elbow and her chin - and Roni falls asleep cradled in the other woman’s arms as the sun makes its first peek over the horizon.

 

##

 

She’s happy.

 

It takes a while for Roni to really become aware of it. Of the shift. She doesn’t know exactly when it happened, but she can take a pretty good guess.

 

She shares the truth with Em a few weeks into their relationship - for that’s what it is, despite her denial in the beginning. It might be fairly casual, no explicit promises on either end, but it starts as (really awesome) sex and winds up as Em’s Netflix account on her blu-ray player, staying over at her apartment more and more, and way too much texting while Em is at work at her real job.

 

Em is concerned at first, as anyone would be when hearing that someone who is important to them is missing a very large part of her memories.

 

“You’re not- I mean, there wasn’t anyone-” Em hesitantly asks a while into the conversation, and Roni shakes her head.

 

“I hired a private investigator. They couldn’t tell me much, but according to the legal records, I’ve never been married. If there was someone important to me, I don’t know. But if so, it was a long time ago, and they never tried very hard to find me, so. I always assumed there wasn’t.” She shrugs.

 

Em shares her story, of how she grew up in foster child, had a baby in prison, and became a bounty hunter.

 

“Eventually, though, I got tired of it, of that life. I just wanted something steady, and I’ve always been pretty good at numbers.”

 

“Hence accounting.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“You know, you’re the sexiest account I’ve ever seen,” Roni states, intentionally lightening the mood. Em guffaws, and the laugh lines around her eyes crinkle adorably. Warmth unfurls in Roni’s belly at the sight, and she can’t help the answering smile that stretches across her face.

 

There’s still this small, hollow sensation deep down, like something is just slightly off. But she thinks that will probably always be there, a reminder of the life she had but doesn’t remember.

 

She can ignore it much more easily when Em is there with her ridiculous jokes, her interesting stories, and her overall presence just making life a little brighter.

 

##

 

They try to stay subtle in the beginning, but apparently, they don’t do a very good job, because absolutely everyone seems to know about them, even some of the regular customers.

 

Soon enough, they drop the act, and everyone knows they’re together. Em takes to kissing her lightly before she climbs onstage, and Roni pretends to be grumpy about it.

 

One night when it’s still early, Roni slides Em’s burger across the bar, and Em leans forward and kisses her.

 

“What was that? It’s too early for your good luck kiss.”

 

Em shrugs. “Just wanted to.”

 

“Yeah, well, I just want to do this,” Roni says, and picks up the club soda sprayer, threateningly pointing it at Em.

 

Em narrows her eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

 

Roni presses the button for a short second, and the front of Em’s navy top is immediately soaked. She gapes at Roni, laughing incredulously.

 

“Holy shit,” she gasps. “You actually did it.”

 

“Oh, darn, looks like you’ll have to go up to my place and change.”

 

“Tragic,” Em comments, the humor in her eyes darkening quickly into hunger.

 

Roni returns the look with one of her own, and Em swallows visibly.

 

“Have to go change clothes. Be back in a sec,” Em says to Harmony, who looks at her watch in amusement.

 

“Onstage in twenty minutes.”

 

“Got it. I can change in twenty minutes,” Em says distractedly, following Roni up the stairs.

 

“Literally no one thinks that’s what you’re doing,” Isabella murmurs behind them, and Harmony’s laughter rings out.

 

Roni doesn’t really pay attention, as she’s too busy getting the door open and pushing a blonde woman against the nearest wall.

 

##

 

“Wait, you still haven’t seen _Wonder Woman_?” Em asks one Sunday, as they laze in bed, chatting idly. It’s late morning, usually the time Roni gets up, but lying around with Em is just too tempting.

 

Roni shrugs. “I don’t go to the movies very often.”

 

“Well, you need to see this one. Come on! Up!” Em flings off the blankets, and an hour later, they’re showered and standing in front of a theatre.

 

They stand in a long line, because apparently, they’re not the only people who think seeing a blockbuster at noon on a Sunday is a good idea.

 

They finally make it through the line, just to stand in a second one, as Em insists they have to get food. Finally, hotdogs and candy in hand, they head toward the movie theatre. They turn a corner, and Roni runs smack into a stranger carrying a tub of popcorn. The popcorn goes flying, and the stranger, a friendly guy looking to be in his mid-twenties, apologizes no fewer than four times. Em just stands to the side and laughs. Roni doesn’t want to leave the mess for the employees, so together, she and the stranger scoop the popcorn back into the tub and throw it away.

 

“I’m sorry again,” the guy says, and Roni waves it off.

 

“Don’t worry about it. It was my fault, too. Here,” she says, offering him a five dollar bill. “Get some more, on me.”

 

He protests, but she winds up winning, fully accustomed to persuading unwilling customers. This one is a polite kid, not some belligerent drunk, so he doesn’t even stand a chance.

 

“Thanks,” he says, pocketing the money. “What are you going to see?”

 

“ _Wonder Woman_ ,” Em speaks up for the first time in the conversation.

 

“Nice! I’ve seen it twice.”

 

“She hasn’t seen it yet.” Em nods toward her.

 

“What?!” The stranger turns to her, aghast. “You should.”

 

“I am! That why we’re here.”

 

“Well, I hope you enjoy it,” he says.

 

“Thanks. Careful going around corners now,” she says, turning to go, and he chuckles and wanders off.

 

The movie is, of course, amazing, and Roni loves it so much she convinces Em to see it with her again a few days later.

 

##

 

The next Sunday, Roni wakes up early, which is odd for her. The bartender life doesn’t exactly lend itself to early bird tendencies, and she’s never been much for mornings anyway.

 

But she doesn’t go back to sleep.

 

Instead, she props her head on her bicep and watches Em. Her left hand is still splayed on the other woman’s hip, and she lets herself trace small nonsense shapes on her skin. She traces the stretch marks, the points of her hipbones, the flare of her waist.

 

The early morning sun is streaming through the window, playing with the different hues of gold and grey in her hair. Em looks so peaceful when she’s asleep, like she doesn’t have a single care in the world.

 

And Roni is stupidly, completely, and utterly in love with her.

 

The awareness comes all at once, but it isn’t surprising. It’s been building inside her for weeks, really, just now deciding to come out of the woodwork and offer its name.

 

She should probably be terrified, but instead it’s as if something inside of her, something permanent and _right_ , has clicked into place.

 

She’ll have to tell her once she wakes up.

 

Sleepily, Roni leans down and brushes a gentle kiss against Em, no particular aim in mind, catching a little bit of cheek, a little ear, and a lot of hair. There’s always a lot of hair with Em.

 

But when her lips make contact, there’s a sudden crackle of energy, and the room explodes in rainbow light.

 

Regina pulls back, stunned, as her head fills with hundreds of thousands of memories.

 

She watches as Emma - not Em, not Clementine, _Emma_ , how could she not have _known_ , not have _recognized_ \- jerks up to a sitting position, wide awake, staring at Regina.

 

“ _Regina_?”

 

“Emma?”

 

Regina is grappling at her arms, running them all over Emma - _Emma_ , _Emma_ , _Emma_ \- as though making sure she is entirely corporeal and not a vision. Not harmed in any way. Whole and healthy and there, sitting in front of _Regina._

 

Her mind is reeling.

 

The first thing she wants to do is yank the other woman forward for a kiss, but she doesn’t, because maybe that isn’t what they do and she doesn’t _know_ because memories are still slotting themselves into place faster than she can make any sense of them.

 

“It’s really you.”

 

“And it’s really _you_.” Emma has tears in her eyes, and she hasn’t backed away. In fact, she leans even closer, touching Regina as if she needs the same reassurance as Regina.

 

The questions start at once, and they stumble over each other

 

“How did you find-

 

“When did you-”

 

“Where-”

 

“How-”

 

Roni freezes, one single flash of memory standing out and halting everything else. “Wait. Are you married?”

 

“Divorced. Years ago.”

 

“Thank God.”

 

The relief in her tone must be enough to break any similar reservations Emma might have had, and then they’re kissing. She, Regina, is kissing her, Emma, and for a split second, the world stops, and everything is perfect. They’ve never done this before, not as themselves, and she revels in the newness behind the familiarity. She smells the same, feels the same, tastes the same, but everything is _different_ and so much more.

 

One day they’ll get a chance to explore it, but right now, there is too much to do. She pulls away, and their hands stay linked together even as she asks the next question.

 

“Do you have any idea where Henry is? Your parents?”

 

Emma shakes her head, her eyes wild. “No.”

 

“We’ll find them,” she says, continuing to hold Emma’s hand, even as the panic jumps in her throat at the thought that she doesn’t know where her son is or what he’s been doing or-

 

Suddenly, she sees a face, a nice face with a nose and eyes she should have _recognized_ , always such a nerd for movies.

 

Regina jumps up.

 

“I know where we can find him.”

 

##

 

They meet in front of the theatre where they had seen _Wonder Woman_ a week before. Only a week, and yet so much has changed.

 

“Henry!” Regina shouts. He’s on the phone, but he turns immediately. She runs to him, Emma at her side, and the three of them embrace in a group hug where there are too many arms and they’re too big to do this anymore, their son is grown. Yet it is completely perfect, and Regina feels tears begin to slide down her cheeks and her mouth aches from smiling.

 

He’s so old, her son, five years since she’s seen his face at all, and seven years since she’s seen him in person. Only through Skype and telephone calls, and just the thought of it makes her want to reach out and pull him close again, tell him to go back to being her baby who relied on her if he wanted to venture out anywhere beyond the back yard.

 

Regina has a thousand questions, a million, and she is bombarded by several hundred more when Henry says, “Do you have any idea where I can find my wife?”

 

##

 

They wind up going back to Roni’s. Henry spends the morning on the phone, pacing around the chairs, trying to see if any of his current friends had been friends with him before the curse, if any of them might know his wife and daughter.

 

 _Daughter_.

 

She and Emma make eye contact the first time he says the word. Something like panic, something like awe. They have a _granddaughter_.

 

Her life is so absurd, a string of curses and blessings intertwined.

 

It sounds like Henry’s story is just as crazy, but he only gives them a brief, watered down version in between contacting people. Trapped in another realm, falling in love, getting married, and having a child. Only a few months after she was born, they had an opportunity to get back to this world. But something went wrong, he doesn’t know what. He remembers leaving the other realm together as a family, but the second he woke up in this realm, he was alone in Seattle, believing his name was Evan.

 

While he’s on the phone, Emma and Regina are going the digital route, combing through Facebook accounts and emails, looking for any clues.

 

Regina is scrolling through her phone when the door to Roni’s slams open, despite the fact that it’s only 11 AM, and they don’t open for another three hours.

 

“Roni!” It’s Isabella, with her daughter trailing behind her. She heads toward the stairs but stops when she sees that there’s a group of them in the far corner.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry! Roni, do you have a second?”

 

“Of course,” Regina says, rising.

 

“I’m so sorry, but I’m not going to be able to make it in for my shift tonight. Something’s come up.” She pauses, and she looks like she might be on the verge of crying, of utter hysteria. “Something...lifechanging.”

 

“I understand,” Regina says, and she’s never meant anything more.

 

This time, Isabella does laugh. “Oh, I doubt it. But thank you. I’ll keep you updated, okay?” She is already backing toward the door, clearly in a hurry.

 

“Are you okay? Do you need any help?”

 

“No, we’re-” she stops abruptly, blinking in the direction of the table, and Regina glances over, confused.

 

Henry is staring at her, mouth agape.

 

“ _Ella_?”

 

“ _Henry_?”

 

It turns out that watching her son kiss her friend-slash-employee is a very moving experience at first but quickly turns very awkward. Instead, she turns to the little girl, whom she had known as Sofia. The child is enthralled by whatever game she’s playing on her mother’s phone and seems unaware that anything unusual is going on.

 

But this...this must be…

 

She turns toward Emma, who is standing now, coming over to link their hands together. Regina holds on tight.

 

Henry and Isabella - if that is actually her name, Regina isn’t sure - are laughing, crying, and trying to talk over one another. It isn’t unlike the scene she and Emma had this morning, and while it isn’t what she expected, _nothing_ about this day has been expected. And Henry is so happy that she can’t help but fill her heart brim with happiness, even as there’s a touch of sadness for what they’ve all missed. Finally, Henry turns toward them and wipes away tears of his own.

 

“Moms, this is my wife, Ella. And my daughter, Lucy.”

 

Henry kneels down hesitantly in front of Lucy, and it breaks Regina’s heart in half to know that she isn’t going to remember him from those first few months of her life.

 

But from here on out, she will. Henry’s determined face hasn’t changed since he was two years old, and he’s probably never going to leave her side again.

 

Lucy looks up at Henry, then at her mother. “Is this him?” she asks hesitantly.

 

Ella nods. “Yes, darling.” She runs a hand through the girl’s dark hair, and the girl shoves the phone in her pocket. Ella nods a prompt, and Lucy bites her lip. Deliberately, as if reciting from a script, she says, “Hi, Daddy. I’m glad we found you.”

 

Regina feels tears in her eyes yet again, and she leans her head against Emma’s shoulder, swallowing hard.

 

“And I’m glad I found you.”

 

He clearly wants to hold her close and never let go, but he doesn’t want to frighten her. Instead, he takes her hand a kisses it, and she giggles. He keeps her hand in his while he stands up to kiss Ella again..

 

“Really, kid? Right in front of us, again?” Emma jokes, and Henry laughs.

 

“Shut up, Ma.”

 

“Wait, so...they’re your mothers? ” Ella asks, looking from Henry to them as if trying to solidify new information.

 

Henry laughs. “There’s a lot to explain.”

 

“More than you know,” Regina adds.

 

Ella suddenly claps a hand to her mouth. “Oh my god! I told my mothers-in-law to have _sex_!”

 

Henry frowns. “Wait, _what_?”

 

“That’s okay, it was really great sex,” Emma says with a grin, and Regina elbows her, nodding at Lucy.

 

“Can I erase _that_ memory?” Henry jokes, wincing, and Regina can’t help but chuckle.

 

There’s still so much to explain, so much to catch up on, and so much they still need to figure out. But Regina is fully confident that they’ll find the Charmings and anyone else they set their mind to, now that they’re together.

 

Regina looks around and thinks of blank, pictureless walls, suddenly filled with a child’s artwork, love notes, and dozens upon dozens of pictures. She thinks of a tiny Henry and “I think one day you’ll have more family than you know what to do with,” and she holds tight to Emma’s hand and looks at her family and smiles and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Know Your Name" by Mary Lambert. This song is SQ canon now. You're welcome.


End file.
